


Oublie Tes Erreurs

by leiascully



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-22
Updated: 2010-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders and Lee grieve together in a particular way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oublie Tes Erreurs

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: post-3.18  
> A/N: The title of this means "Forget your errors", which was a phrase in a song I was listening to that is so totally unrelated as to not even need to be credited. For coffeesuperhero's newly minted "Easy Like Sunday Afternoon" Sam/Lee challenge.  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

The moment Lee's boots hit the deck, Anders's waiting for him. News spreads fast. Lee's seen trouble walking around before: it was usually blonde and full of attitude, but it's still recognizable when it's tall, dark, and quivering with suppressed rage. He strips off his helmet. Anders' fist clenches.

"Not here," Lee says quietly. Not on the deck in sight of everybody. Not on the deck where the greasemonkeys will have to clean up his blood and truck him down to Cottle.  
Anders jerks his chin down the corridor toward the head. Lee nods. At least there the blood will wash away.

People stare as they come down the corridor. Behind them, the whispers start. Narcho sidles through the door as they reach it. He smirks and holds the hatch. There's nobody in the head. Maybe the sight of them coming that way cleared it out. Anders spins the lock and rounds on Lee.

"How the frak could you let her fly into that storm?" Anders shouts. He looks even taller when he's furious - right now he's towering over Lee. Lee glares into Anders's pecs.

"I don't know if you've noticed, Anders, but nobody really _lets_ Kara Thrace do anything," he snaps back. _Let_, his mind auto-corrects, _past tense_, and he winces.

"Gods damn you," Anders swears. "You lost her."

"She was lost long before you frakking came along with the white-knight act," Lee yells. He rips down the zipper of his smock, shedding it as fast as he can. It's too godsdamn hot inside it; he's sweating. At least he'll be slippery when Anders sets hands on him.

"Yeah, you're one to frakking talk," Anders shouts back. "All 'shape up, Starbuck, salute me, Starbuck, you better make up for your frakup past, Starbuck, and you can start by frakking me'."

"That wasn't at all how it happened!" Lee shouts, down to tanks and shorts and bare feet. "You shut your godsdamn mouth, Anders. You're talking about things you know nothing about."

"I know enough," Anders says. "More than I'd like to. Drop the good-guy sham, Adama. You're nothing but a cheating little frakker without the strength to hold her here. You were the one pushing her. You're the reason she's dead right now."

Lee just bellows and launches himself at Anders. There aren't any thoughts going through his head, there's only red boiling rage. It doesn't matter if Anders is bigger and heavier than he is - there's no way Anders is as mad as he is. They hurtle across the room together, throwing punches, slapping one of the taps on and then off again somehow so that the deck's slippery too with the water draining. They each land a few good blows. Lee's eye is throbbing, and he's sure he's cracked a rib. At least Anders is panting too, and his nose is bleeding.

Lee's wrung out. It was a hard flight and a hard return and he's a wing away from breaking down, like somewhere inside him, the gimble's gone bad. He grabs Anders around the waist, grappling just the way he did with Kara - the irony's not lost - locking his arms around the man he hates. His chest heaves against Anders' ribs. He's breathing so hard he can taste the salt of Anders' sweat; his own sweat stings in his eyes as they slip and slide under the water and back across the deck.

This is so frakking pointless. Lee's off-balance, exhausted, just longing to down a bottle of ambrosia and hit his rack, or find some unused room where he can sob away his loss, once he gets tanked enough. Instead he's dancing with Anders, reeking and soaked, thinking of how Kara must have pressed her body against Anders' the same way. Anders got to frak her so many times, in their marriage bed even, got to share secrets and dreams and lovers' spats and pillow talk; Lee had her in his arms just once, aside from the kisses stolen in the face of reason and right. There's no justice in the worlds. Then again, he already knew that.

Something is happening as he and Anders sway wearily, thumping at each other. Their thighs brush. Lee's cock stirs, the most energetic part of him. It feels good; it's the only thing that feels good in the whole world; he can't help wedging his leg further between Anders', increasing the pressure. Anders groans. Lee has the advantage now. He presses even harder against Anders, too tired to do anything but let his body take over. He can feel Anders' cock too through those stupid C-Bucs sweats.

"Gonna frak me, Adama?" Anders asks. "Gonna frak me like you couldn't frak her?"

"You're right," Lee grits out. "She wasn't into that."

"You let her _go_," Anders says, and Lee can hear all the anguish and the terror in Anders' voice.

"She said something about destiny," Lee offers, because he knows he sounds the same. "She let herself go. She said to let her go."

"Frak destiny," Anders says, grinding his teeth.

"Frak me," Lee says. "Frak me instead."

It's penance. It's grief shared, a burden lessened. It's a momentary relief. Lee braces himself against the wall as Anders strips off Lee's shorts, tests him with a couple of long callused fingers, and then pushes in slowly. He's almost gentle. Lee almost wishes he wouldn't be. It isn't his first time frakking someone he doesn't love. He hasn't done it much since he's been on Galactica, because the CAG needs some distance, but he used to do it. Sometimes at war college, he and his colleagues would do anything to take their minds off their coursework: no big deal, future officers getting naked together, didn't really matter what his preferences were because it was more like a buffet where you sampled a little of everybody. In general for him it's women but he's not too picky. He didn't give a frak then whether he was giving or receiving, but it feels different now.

It feels a little like hate, since he wouldn't frak Anders if Kara weren't (he can't think the word) gone. It feels a little like love, if only because he's wondering if Kara felt the same shock of pleasure when Anders thrust into her, unexpected starbursts in his vision. He nearly forgot this would be good for him too. It shouldn't be: this is his apology for letting Kara die on his watch. She's been slipping away a long time but he thought he could hold her. He can't apologize to everybody and he can't even say the words to Sam, but he can offer his body, for frakking or fighting. He can't be pissed that Sam stole her when he tried to steal her first. _Sorry, Zak_, he thinks, _sorry, Kara. Sorry, everybody. There's not one godsdamn thing I can do now._

Not a godsdamn thing except spread his legs a little wider and lift his hips to make it easier for Anders, tall bastard that he is. Anders seems fine with this whole situation. They must have solved things the same way off the Pyramid court. Lee grabs the tap by accident and twists it on. Water pounds down on his back, first icy, then on its way to scalding. He leaves it on.

Anders seems to forget himself and thrusts harder. He hits a good spot, sending hot pleasure licking up Lee's spine like flames. Lee grunts and shoves his ass back against Anders' hips. He'll be sore tomorrow but he doesn't give a frak. He just wants to forget himself, pinned between the wall and the solid mass of Anders' body. Anders pushes hard again, hits the spot again. Lee's balls tingle and the back of his thigh is twisting up with the overwhelming sensation of it, almost a cramp, almost good.

"Harder," Lee pants.

"Thought you wanted me to frak you like I frakked her," Anders gasps. "I _loved_ her."

"She liked it rough," Lee says, feeling like he can't really deal with talking about this on more than one level right now but he can't take the extra meaning out of his words either.

"Not all the time," Anders says. Lee turns his head. Anders stripped all his clothes off at some point. Lee's momentarily envious of his definition, and more than momentarily envious of the authority in his voice when Anders talks about what Kara wanted.

"Frak you, I loved her too," Lee says. There's that startling flash of pleasure again as his eyes meet Anders', very aware of the way Anders' hips are still moving and Anders' cock is still hitting that spot.

"Yeah, well, it didn't make a godsdamn bit of difference in the end," Anders says, and thrusts even harder. It's all Lee can do now to brace himself up. His knees are going weak and when Anders gets a hand down to cup Lee's balls, Lee nearly jumps out of his skin. Anders' other hand is on Lee's thigh, pulling him back, holding him steady, Anders' fingers digging into Lee's flesh. Lee can feel the way Anders is starting to shiver. He thinks of Kara, of the way she bit her lip when she was close, the way she closed her eyes and then opened them again just when he most needed to see her. Gods, he loved her, he loved her; it's an injustice of incredible magnitude for all four of them, him and her and Anders and Dee, the way it all worked out.

He's holding on to the shower taps as hard as he can, his feet sliding on the floor, desperate for his own release, desperate for Anders to come. Anders' hand that was on Lee's balls slides to his shaft, Anders bending over Lee. He pulls out suddenly, grunting, and comes all over Lee's back. Lee can feel the hot splatter distinct from the water before the shower washes it away. His ass aches at the absence of Anders' cock; his whole body aches with the need for orgasm, and as Anders' hand grasps and strokes him, he feels it coming, coming, and then he's coming, gasping like he's oxygen deprived again as Anders holds him hard. The pleasure hits him so hard it's like he's knocked out of his body, floating free.

_Is this what she wanted, to be erased?_ Lee thinks fleetingly just before his mind goes blank. _I wanted it too and she dragged me back._

"Zeus and Apollo," Anders swears, sagging against the wall.

"Yeah," Lee says. He straightens up, making sure all of him's still there. He's going to be sore later but it's worth it. He's still wearing his tanks. His shorts are hung over a towel rack with Anders' own - Anders was oddly polite about it, apparently. Lee pulls them on, trying not to look at Anders as he dresses himself. They're both trying not to look at each other, Lee notices, accidentally catching Anders' eye.

"So what about a frakking drink," Anders says finally, like there's no question about it. "A couple bottles of ambrosia, some smokes, and no talking. It's the wake she would have wanted. Oh, and a change of clothes." He picks at the wet shirt he's dragged back on. "Unless we wanna drink naked."

"An honor to her memory," Lee says. Anders gives him a smile like his face'll crack open if he tries any harder. "Let's go get frakked."


End file.
